


Dance with me on regents street

by Geiger



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 04:01:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20147284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geiger/pseuds/Geiger
Summary: There might haven‘t been a little smile, a fond, mellow touch brushing his skin, or at the very least, a tender glance out of timid, heavenly eyes, for Crowley to realize he had fallen once again. And maybe that would have been everything, what was needed for him to see. However, what there had been, was time. Time, the almost-ending of a world……and a nightingale singing in Berkeley Square.





	1. A nightingale sang in Berkeley square

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry for any language concerning mistakes, for I'm not native. Feel free to indicate. :)

> ** _That certain night the night we met, There was magic abroad in the air…_ **

Crowley squirmed, taking in all that magical weave that enclosed around their table, lifted his glass and swallowed once again, sweet, prickling champagne, glistening on his tounge.

Oh yes, indeed. There was.

And there was Aziraphale.

Crowley felt so soft.

The gentle touch of the singer‘s voice flickered underneath his skin and tingled down his bones, bubbling ever so sweetly in his stomach. It reverberated in his chest, causing him to suppress his lungs.

It wasn’t actually very apparent at first.

There wasn’t a rushing thump of his heart, nor a knowing tremble of his fingertips. Not even a sudden jolt squeezing in his guts.

It was just a gentle heartbeat, squirming softly underneath his ribs, tickling ever so faintly in the pit of his stomach, barely able to be noticed.

And Crowley didn’t notice.

Well, that was before it grew.

Slowly it increased, intensified quiet and secretly deep inside his inner being, staying hidden beneath his noisy snarl like his fiery eyes behind his sunglasses.

At the beginning it only occured, when Aziraphale’s delighted glance lingered just slightly longer on his, causing his heart to flutter softly in his chest like a jittery bird in his cage.

But oh, it was just too easy to ignore. Crowley, at times, wasn’t even aware of it, he just went along, without paying attention.

But soon there was more. It came up, when the dipped corners of the angel‘s mouth lifted his cheeks, causing his glistening eyes to smile just as wide as his pearly teeth, or when Aziraphale closed his lids in pure bliss to savour whatever he felt needed savouring.

And eventually only the sight of the angel - the sweet and soft angel Aziraphale – was just enough for these feelings to emerge from the bottom of Crowley‘s heart.

** _There were angels dining at the Ritz,_ **

An amused loving smile plucked at his cheeks, for there was actually an angel dining right in front of him. He leaned back, looking at Aziraphale and drinking again from his glass.

** _And a nightingale sang in Berkeley square…_ **

The evening was warm and tender.

They‘ve been at the Ritz for hours, talking, laughing and also just remaining silent, remembering and feeling. 

Oh, there was so much to feel. 

A soft breeze tickled Crowley’s neck, as he took off his sunglasses and looked up in the sky.

** _I may be right I may be wrong, _ **

** _But I'm perfectly willing to swear..._ **

„Let’s run away together, angel.“, Crowley whispered softly and chuckled. „…won’t we?“ 

Aziraphale giggled as well and crossed his arms behind his back.

„That would be absolutely lovely, I suppose.“

_That when you turned and smiled at me,_

Aziraphale's eyes were glistening with joy, the small wrinkles at the corners of his lids deepening, when his peachy cheeks squeezed them together. Crowley returned it.

„Shall we?“, he asked and turned in the direction of the bookshop.

Aziraphale agreed with a slight bob of his head and started walking. 

** _A nightingale sang in Berkeley square._ **

It had rained during their dinner at the Ritz. Small, shimmery puddles reflecting thousands of stars, infinity beneath their shoes. Their steps crunching on shingles and grinding on the wet tarmac was everything heard, as they silently turned left into air street.

** _The streets of town were paved with stars,_ **

„Ye‘ know, what they say, angel?“

Aziraphale hummed inquiringly without actually looking at him as they stopped walking, whilst crossing regents street.

„What?“, He asked. Crowley didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the countless, sparkling stars above them in the dark night‘s sky.

„What? Oh, eeh…nothing. They say nothing, I forgot what they say.“

Aziraphale inhaled sharply.

„Crowley! Don’t you ever again try to lie to me that blatantly!“

Crowley laughed.

** _It was such a romantic affair._ **

„I won’t tell you!“, he snorted and turned to the angel, his heart pounding violently in his ribcage, as he stepped closer to him, watching Aziraphale‘s eyes widen, as he eventually stopped just inches away from his pointy nose.

„I might won’t tell you, but…“, He smelt the angel‘s cologne, the stale wood of the bookshop in his coat. His wryly breath of sweet cake and sparkling wine dancing moist over the sensitive tissue of his lips. Crowley paused his lungs, heart throbbing.

** _And as we kissed and said goodnight…_ **

He leaned in,

passing Aziraphale’s face.

Screaming internally, just couldn’t do it once again.

Eventually he stopped with his lips so close to the angel‘s ear, that his hair tickled the tip of his nose, as he held on to his shoulders, like he would hold on to dear life, his heart wildly protesting, squeezing in pain as he opened his trembling lips and whispered thinly.

„I’ve loved the stars to fondly to be fearful of the night.“

** _…a nightingale sang in Berkeley square…_ **

„That’s Galilei.“

** _…I know, 'cause I was there…_ **

„…“

** _…that night in Berkeley Square._ **


	2. Chapter 2

Aziraphale chuckled.

Then he raised his gaze, diving into the hollowy depth of the velvety blue sky, drowning in the pitch black ocean filled with millions and millions of stars beyond the grasp of humanlike eyes.

He smiled softly, listened to the sweet sound of the squirmy breaths against the roots of his neck. The pale, flickering light of the streetlamp, painting a small circle around them as they stood raptly, fading away in the volatile concept of time and the sheltering glance of the stars.

„I’m stupid.“, Crowley rasped thinly and layed his cheek down on the angel’s shoulder nuzzling his nose into the soft pit between his neck and the silky fabric of his collar.

He huffed and smiled sorely, letting go of Aziraphale‘s arms and gently tracing his fingertips down his body to his hips, holding back, as if he was scared, that his touch would break the fragility of their moment. „…oh, I‘m so stupid.“

Aziraphale inhaled shakily, wanted to say something – anything - but there just weren’t any words left he could’ve said, just his squeezing, wildly beating heart, crushing his lungs and preventing any sound from trembling out of his lips.

He squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered helplessly, finally gathering every strength he could find, grasping Crowley’s shoulders and drawing him back so he could look in his burning eyes, panting, screwing up his courage, ignoring the flaming inferno raging in his veins, probably hurting Crowley as his strong, desperate grip intensified, letting his knuckles turning white at the pure force he held on to him.

The demon squirmed, his fiery, yellow glance twitching.

„Angel ..!?“

„We both are!“

„Wha…??“

„Stupid! We…both…“,

His voice broke, didn’t come further, as he finally just reached for Crowley’s neck and pulled him in,

suffocating every other word in the surprising, innocent tenderness of Crowley‘s lips, tasting the coarse tartness of his mouth and shared the wryly champagne in his breath, as he parted his lips, just to push in once again.

And then, Crowley came to life, letting out a desperate groan as he finally grasped the angel’s coat, drawing him closer, drowning him in the gentle, longing force of 6000 years of restraint.

When they eventually parted, it was still.

Just the hoarse panting of their screaming lungs echoed back softly from the hollowy dark around them in regents street. And if they would have listened closely, they maybe would have also heard the steady throb of their synchronized heartbeats.

Aziraphale lowered his eyes, the fingers of his left hand still linked tentatively in the firm fabric of Crowley’s jacket. He let go.

„That was…well,…about time, I suppose.“, he croaked nervously and cleared his throat.

Crowley shuffled his tensed hands inside his pockets and twitched his yellow snake eyes jittery over their surroundings.

„Yeh, that…eer…t'was...alright...“, the demon twitched his head to the side uncomfortably, like someone who just didn’t know what to answer and then goes for 'whatever'. He leaned back deliberately, trying to look absolutely relaxed and as if he had everything under his control, scuffed his pointy shoes over the crunchy, wet tarmac as he continued walking.

Aziraphale huffed smilingly and closed up to him.

„What would you say to some well aged bottles of Brunello from 1957? They're absolutely…“

„Yeeeah…eer…maybe, when we…ye' know, find some… time…?“

„…“

„Crowley!!!“


End file.
